


Enough

by tariana



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tariana/pseuds/tariana
Summary: Casey and Zeke leave Herrington after the events of the movie.





	Enough

Zeke is pretty sure they're in Kansas now, and all the Wizard of Oz jokes he's heard aren't sounding very funny. But then again, nothing much seems funny right now. He's been driving for a couple of hours this time around, and he knows they're going to have to stop soon. Casey nearly fell asleep at the wheel and Zeke took over the driving then, but he hasn't had much sleep either, and the miles between Herrington and here have long since started to wear on him. They haven't stopped except to go to the bathroom, buy gas for the car, and once, to buy smokes. They grabbed a few hours' sleep and a shower at a truck stop in Illinois somewhere, but that was more hours ago than Zeke wants to count.

Casey is asleep in the passenger seat right now, but it's restless sleep, and Zeke thinks he might know what's preying on Casey's mind. It's sure preying on his. They'd left a fucking ghost town, and Zeke doesn't think the enormity of it's really hit him yet. Everyone they knew is dead, everyone. Except for them. Zeke just hopes Herrington was the only place the aliens got.

 

When they'd walked out of the school after finding Stokely dead, they'd known that everyone else must be dead, too. They had stopped Marybeth from spreading any further contamination, but Stokely's theory had been wrong. As far as they knew, they might be the only two people left in Herrington alive, but they weren't going to stick around to find out. Right then, nothing sounded better to Zeke than getting the hell out of Dodge, and Casey had agreed readily enough.

They'd made the decision to leave, and when Casey had asked where, Zeke had said, “Anywhere but here.” 

Casey had just nodded, and where had that smart mouth been then? They'd wound up taking Casey's mom's car, and after taking showers, grabbing Casey some clothes and stopping at Zeke's house, too, for a change of clothes and a few things, Zeke had driven out of town. He'd stopped at the intersection outside of town, and looked both ways down the highway.

“East or west, Casey?”

Casey considered for a few moments, looking at Zeke with those big, big eyes. He muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath and Zeke almost smiled. Here was the Casey he knew and... loved? Well, not exactly – he had barely known the kid existed before yesterday. But right then, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather have with him on this journey – for sure as hell, not Delilah, or Stan, or even Stokely, for that matter. He found himself missing Casey's sarcasm, and hoped it would return, once Casey got over a little of his shock at having his world ripped out from under his feet.

Casey finally decided. “West.”

Zeke nodded and turned the wheel of the car.

 

And now they're coming up on a little town – Zeke can see the lights. Maybe there's a motel... it looks like it might be big enough to have one, although it's on a relatively small highway. Maybe there's a diner or something, too – Zeke is hungry, really hungry, and thirsty, too.

They pass signs for a reservoir, and drive down a steep hill past a bunch of industrial buildings. There's a sign that says “Old Trail Motel” and Zeke turns the way the sign indicates.

Casey wakes with the motion of the turning and the lights of the town, blinks and rubs his eyes like a little kid, yawns hugely and scrubs his hands through his hair.

“Where are we?” Casey asks.

“Damned if I know,” Zeke answers, and he really doesn't, not for sure. Something that started with a C? Maybe. His brain is too fried to care – all he can think about is food and sleep.

Suddenly, out of the night, a sign glows with bright promise – Saddlerock Cafe, it says. He has no idea what a Saddlerock is, but the word cafe is enough to spark his interest. He turns into the parking lot and the sign in the window still says OPEN although it's nearly 2 in the morning. Zeke stops the car, shuts off the lights, and opens his door. His back and legs feel as if they've grown into a sitting position, and he stretches extravagantly. The car is a little cramped for his tall frame, and he bets even Casey is suffering from the lack of movement.

Casey stands slowly, but Zeke can see that it isn't with soreness that he moves so slow – he can tell that Casey is exhausted – the deep kind of exhaustion that grabs you by your bones and makes you want to sleep for a year or so. He'll get some coffee into Casey, and maybe the kid will feel better. Zeke's already decided – they're going to stay in this town a few days, if it looks like it might be safe to do so. They need to rest, need to plan, need to decide what they're doing next, and they can't do that on no sleep.

“C'mon, Case,” the nickname slips out as though it's familiar, and Zeke likes the way it sounds, so he tries it again. “Case, let's go get something to eat.”

Casey perks up a little at that, and he follows Zeke inside. The cafe is brightly lit, with wallpaper with horses on it and some little squares of wood with symbols on them hanging on the walls. Zeke thinks they are brands from ranches, but he's never seen a ranch, so he doesn't know for sure. There are a couple of old dudes that look like they stepped out of a Western movie sitting at a big table in the middle of the room, and a trio of giggling girls about their age that eye him and Casey with interest, despite the bedraggled appearance he knows they must present.

One of the young girls stands up and grabs some menus from a stack on the counter, and heads over to the booth Casey has chosen and flopped down in. Casey puts his head down on his arms and looks disinterestedly at the girl when she arrives.

“Something to drink?” she asks. Casey shrugs, and Zeke answers for both of them.

“Coffee, please.”

She notes it down on her order pad, then walks to a big coffeemaker, picks up two mugs and the coffeepot, and sets the mugs on the table, then fills them with coffee. She sets a small bowl of plastic packages of cream and a sugar shaker down on the table, too, and Casey takes his mug, dumps in four of the cream packages and about a cup of sugar. Zeke just watches the whole process, amused. As small as Casey is, that caffeine and sugar will hit him like a ton of bricks, and Zeke looks forward to the high.

Zeke doesn't put anything in his coffee, and it's hot and strong and good that way. He sips, burning his tongue slightly, and sets the mug down to let the coffee cool a bit. He picks up his menu and inspects it. Pretty typical diner fare, hamburgers and all manner of sandwiches, chicken fried steak... he can practically see his cholesterol going up just looking at the menu, let alone actually eating anything.

The waitress returns – her name tag says Mattea, and Zeke thinks that's an odd name, but not bad. And anyway, Ezekiel isn't exactly common these days, either, now is it?

Zeke orders a burger and something called Texas Toothpicks, and Casey opts for the biscuits and gravy. Zeke nods – if anyone can use those extra calories, it's Casey.

It isn't too long until their food arrives, and Casey's nearly nodding off – Zeke guesses the coffee hasn't hit him yet. He digs into his food, though, and soon the biscuits – four of them, from what Zeke can tell under all that gravy – are nearly gone. His own burger is good, and the Texas Toothpicks turn out to be little strips of onion and jalapeño pepper, breaded and fried. It sounds really weird, but they're actually good, although he'll want to brush his teeth later, he's sure.

Casey has come fully awake again by the time they finish their food, and he digs out his wallet and slides a ten and a five onto the table. It's just about right to pay the bill and the tip, and Zeke leaves it there, then stands. His back protests again, and he hopes the motel will have plenty of hot water. He wants a long shower.

He asks the waitress about the motel, and she gives them more specific directions. They go back out to the car and get in. Casey drives them down the rest of the town's Main Street, nearly to the end of it, then makes a sharp left as the waitress directed. They climb a steep hill and pass what honestly looks like a lot of junk to Zeke – but maybe it looks prettier in the daylight. Zeke hopes so.

He sees the sign for the motel and Casey pulls into the parking lot. Zeke gets out and goes inside. He gets them a room and pays – he has enough money to pay cash, for the moment. They'll have to figure out something soon, but for right now they're okay on money.

Casey parks the car in front of their room – it's one of those motels with all the doors on the outside, and it's only one story. They get their bags from the trunk – Casey's a backpack, Zeke's a duffel bag – and carry them inside. The motel room lock uses a real key, not one of the magnetic cards, and it works hard.

It's not much on glamour, Zeke thinks, but it's clean. The carpet is faded but looks recently vaccuumed, the TV is old enough that it still has knobs instead of a remote, and the bedspread looks like a real handmade quilt. There are pictures of Indians on the walls, and Zeke vaguely remembers that they passed a statue of an Indian on the way into town.

Casey drops his bag, rummages through it, and pulls out some clothes, then disappears into the bathroom. Zeke hears the water running and hopes Casey doesn't use up all the hot. Casey isn't in the bathroom long, and he comes out looking scrubbed, with his hair all sticking up at odd angles and some color in his cheeks, and looking more like a little kid than ever.

He gestures to Zeke that the bathroom is his, and Zeke grabs the clothes he's hunted out and goes inside. The shower feels heavenly – there is still hot water, and the water pressure is pretty good. He stays under the spray for a long time, washing his hair twice, and then letting the spray pound the soreness out of his back and arms. He dresses in the sweats and t-shirt, brushes his teeth, and walks back out into the main room.

Casey is huddled in the ugly recliner in the corner of the room, and he's crying. Zeke can tell he's trying not to, and Zeke wants to tell him not to worry about it, to cry if he wants to, but the words won't come. They've died in his throat and he can't get anything past the lump that's suddenly formed in his throat.

Suddenly, everything they've been through comes crashing down on Zeke, too, and he covers the distance to Casey in a few strides of his long legs, then kneels in front of the chair and reaches out to Casey. The smaller boy leans forward and suddenly Zeke has an armful of a sobbing, clinging Casey.

They stay like that, Zeke sitting cross-legged on the floor and Casey almost in his lap, for a long time. Zeke doesn't quite know how to react – he's not used to people touching him, and his first reaction was to shy away, but on some level he knows that isn't what Casey needs, and so Zeke puts aside his discomfort for Casey. He doesn't know what to do with his hands – if Casey was a girl, Zeke would know where to put them, oh yes, but Casey is most definitely not a girl – Casey is all angles, knees and hipbones and sharp elbows, and Zeke is surprised that this doesn't feel weirder. He's heard the rumors about Casey, of course, and he figures they're probably true, and he supposes he should be freaked out that he's holding a gay guy on his lap, but some way, he isn't.

Casey's sobs have subsided to the occasional hitching breath, although he's still clutching Zeke as tight as ever, hands pulling at Zeke's hair, then moving down to fist in his t-shirt, then back up to his hair.

Then, Casey pulls away slightly, and he gives Zeke an embarrassed-looking half-smile.

“Fuck. Sorry,” Casey says.

“Nothin' to be sorry about,” Zeke says. “Shit, we've been through enough the last few days to make anyone cry.”

Casey puts his hands on Zeke's chest and pushes himself away, then stands. Suddenly, Zeke feels a sense of... loss, almost? Well, something, anyway, and he knows he felt better when Casey was touching him, so he stands up too, and pulls Casey back into a hug. Casey stiffens at first, his small frame tense, but then he relaxes against Zeke, hugging him back around the waist.

Zeke hasn't really realized how much smaller than him Casey is until now – he barely even reaches Zeke's shoulders, and his bones are small, but there's surprising muscle under that t-shirt. Zeke should have guessed – he's seen Casey run from the creeps at school, run from the football team Friday night, and the little fucker is fast. That speed has to come from somewhere.

Dimly, in some back part of his brain, he wonders what the hell he is doing, but the rest of his brain seems to think it's perfectly fine to sit down in the recliner and pull Casey along with him. Casey winds up sitting sideways across Zeke's lap, his arms around Zeke's neck, and he curls up against Zeke, and he's warm, and Zeke is so tired, and it would be so easy just to fall asleep here.

He's almost done just that when Casey leans forward, shifting his center of gravity and making the recliner rock a bit. Zeke opens his eyes and finds Casey looking at him with frank interest. Casey looks very awake, and Zeke thinks that the coffee must have finally hit.

Part of him is shocked, and part of him not at all, when Casey leans up and kisses him full on the mouth – just a quick press of lips, then Casey is pulling away and trying to stand up, saying, “Sorry, sorry,” and a lot of other muttered stuff that Zeke can't understand, but Zeke doesn't want to let Casey go, and so he doesn't.

Casey might be deceptively strong for his size, but he's no match for Zeke, and it's easy enough to pull Casey back into his lap. Zeke isn't sure exactly what to do with Casey once he has him, though – Casey's a guy, and Zeke's never done this with a guy before, although he has to admit he's looked at a few of them. Never anyone like Casey, though, always rougher, coarser guys. Never anyone little and innocent-looking like Casey. But Zeke knows Casey is far from innocent – the words he's heard come out of Casey's mouth prove that, as do the things they've both seen over the last few days.

Casey's eyes are huge as Zeke leans toward him, and then the eyelids fall shut slowly as Zeke kisses him. Something about the way Casey kisses him back, and Zeke knows Casey's never kissed anyone else before. That's fine with Zeke, because inexperienced or not, Casey's doing a damn fine job of kissing him, and Zeke falls into the kiss, into Casey.

Casey moves, rearranging himself so that he's straddling Zeke's legs, and settles himself more deeply into Zeke's lap, wriggling a bit more than Zeke thinks might be strictly necessary. One thing about it, Casey's certainly got his interest. Zeke groans, and Casey leans back to give him a saucy smile.

He looks as though he's about to say something sarcastic, and Zeke mutters, “Shut up,” before silencing whatever Casey was going to say with another kiss. Casey arches against him, and Zeke can feel how turned on he is – but then, Casey can surely feel that about him, too.

Casey is pressing and rubbing and his hands are in Zeke's hair, then skimming down Zeke's chest, and then one of them is at Zeke's waistband and then inside, and his cock is being gripped in the firm touch of Casey's fingers, and he wonders how he's lived without this for his whole life. He knows that Casey has never done this either, somehow, but it doesn't seem to matter – he doesn't think it would matter what Casey did to him, it couldn't help but feel good.

His hands are on Casey's hips, and he can feel the jutting bones there – Casey is so thin and Zeke's hands feel so big on him, and it's amazingly sexy to just be able to touch Casey wherever he wants. He can't believe he hasn't thought about it before. Zeke's hands slide around Casey's waist, then down to his ass, then on to his thighs, pulling Casey closer to him. Casey comes willingly, but he has let go of Zeke's cock, and then Zeke isn't sure that was a good idea.

But then Casey is settled in his lap again, and he's pressing down and sliding against Zeke, and working at peeling Zeke's shirt off. He succeeds, and leans to kiss Zeke on collarbone, neck, nipples, and Zeke thinks that turnabout is fair play. He gets Casey out of his shirt, and kisses Casey's ears, down his jawline, then back up to his lips.

Casey murmurs his name, and it's breathy and sexy and so unlike the Casey that Zeke thought he knew – there's nothing coarse or vulgar about this Casey. This Casey is just soft and sexy and Zeke thinks he could come just from the sound of Casey's breathing, from the sound of his name as it falls from Casey's lips again.

Casey is thrusting harder, moving more urgently against Zeke, and Zeke can feel his own body start to climb toward its peak. Casey kisses Zeke hard, arches up against a final time, and comes with a moan and an expletive, and there's the Casey that Zeke knows and... loves? Yes, Zeke thinks. Maybe so. He could see that happening and the thought is scary and thrilling all at once, and his life just keeps getting weirder and weirder, doesn't it?

Zeke pushes his hips up against Casey again, and a few more times is all it takes, and Zeke is coming, too, stifling his moan against Casey's neck. Casey pulls him close as the aftershocks hit him, and by the time Zeke's mind returns, Casey has snuggled against him again and appears to be falling asleep.

“Case,” Zeke begins, and Casey looks up at him. Yes, Casey is very sleepy, and those blue eyes are heavy-lidded. Casey smiles and Zeke's heart lurches. Yes, his world is a very weird place to be right now, but not unpleasant. No, not at all unpleasant.

“Guess we should get cleaned up,” Casey says, and slides easily off Zeke's lap. He grabs another pair of pants from his bag, goes into the bathroom, and Zeke stands up. His legs feel rubbery and unsure, and he's happy to get into bed after cleaning up and putting on another pair of sweats. Casey was standing by the window, looking out at the night, but when Zeke climbs into bed, he turns off the light and climbs in, too.

For a few moments, there is a wide expanse of bed between them, then Casey slides over, almost hesitantly. He waits as Zeke turns onto his side, facing him, then curls himself into the space Zeke creates for him.

Zeke falls asleep with Casey's breath ruffling his hair, and Casey's hand clasped loosely in his. He wakes sometime in late morning, judging by the sun. Casey sleeps on, and Zeke is content to watch him, stroking Casey's hair gently so as not to wake him. Zeke decides he doesn't really need to get up – there will be plenty of time later for dealing with what needs to be dealt with. Zeke smiles and closes his eyes. Casey pushes closer to him, and Zeke enfolds the smaller boy in his arms.

Maybe things will be okay after all. They have each other, and Zeke thinks that just might be enough.


End file.
